


"Morbid Curiosity"

by ChubbinLovin (TinyBibliophile)



Series: Coming Home to You [8]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubstuck, F/M, Fatstuck, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - F/M/M, Weight Gain, fat kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 22:24:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14882342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyBibliophile/pseuds/ChubbinLovin
Summary: When Dave's snacks start disappearing, the two of you become quickly of suspicious of Dirk and his new habit of wearing hoodies in 100 degree weather. However, you never could've expected the turn things were about to take.





	"Morbid Curiosity"

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so, any of ya'll who absolutely HATE anything even remotely Dirk/Dave you might wanna skip this chapter. There's nothing directly sexual between them, really, (it's more like textbook polyamory where they both "share" the reader and interact for their benefit) but still, I know it's an upsetting topic for some, so just fair warning.  
> Also, sidenote warning for Dirk's shitty southern accent. I headcanon both he and Dave have one, but his is way thicker.  
> Hah.  
> Thicker.

It was about halfway through summer vacation when you noticed something… odd. Just about every other day you brought home a little box of desserts from the cafe for Dave, and they were disappearing even more quickly than you’d expected. At first you were proud, but Dave insisted he hadn't been the culprit.  “There were like thirty cookies in that box,” you’d teased as you walked in from work and slid the cake you’d brought with you into the fridge. "They’re gone already~?“

He flushed hotly at the taunt. "I didn’t eat them all,” he told you as he shoved his hands deep in his pockets, his hips squirming in that cute way they did when he was somewhere between embarrassed and horny.

“Dave, you don’t have to lie,” you snickered sweetly. “You think I’ll be mad about it?”

“No,” he admitted, “but I really didn’t eat them all. I had maybe half, and when I came back for the rest they were gone.”

“So you were  _ going _ to eat them all.”

“Not the point.”

He was right of course. It was certainly strange. You hadn’t taken them, that was for sure. And the only other person in the house was Dirk. Could he have stolen them? At first you thought there was no way, but who else could it have been? The only explanation would’ve been that Dave was lying, but what reason could he have to do that?

Then a week or so later, you noticed something else out of the ordinary. Whenever the three of you hung out, no matter where you were, what you were doing, or what time it was, Dirk was always wearing some kind of hoodie or light jacket. In the middle of summer. In 100 degree weather. Like that was a totally normal thing to do.

Dave and you shared the same suspicion, and he’d insisted you call Dirk out on (most likely) putting on a few extra pounds. After all, there was _no way_ this was all just coincidental. What other explanation could there be? “The look on his face'll be priceless,” he’d chuckled, “especially after all the shit he’s given me in the past year.”

You had an even better idea.

Dirk had been out on a store run, and that was your perfect opportunity. Dave had said he never actually  _ saw _ his brother eating any of the treats, so you figured he must be stashing them somewhere in his room. If you could find his stash, not only would you call him out on his overindulgence and, more importantly, the result of it, but you’d catch him redhanded. It would be way too good.

So the two of you snooped. You checked under his bed, in the drawers of his desk, in his dresser, but found nothing; the last place you began to hunt through was his closet. The two of you had barely even set foot inside it when you heard the door open and downstairs. Then the sound of the door shutting was followed by his characteristically quiet steps coming towards the room.

“Shit,” Dave hissed as the two of you ducked into the closet and shut the screen behind you. Through the slats you watched with bated breath as he stepped inside and flipped on the lights. After shutting the door (and, you noted, locking it) he dropped a plastic bag onto his desk and slid into his office chair with a long exhale of breath. Then, he shucked off his hoodie.

It was subtle, but you definitely noticed the way his stomach bunched and dipped into his lap just the slightest bit. The waistband of his pants hugged his hips more than you remembered them doing, which was saying something since he was always wearing those douche-y skinny jeans. He must’ve put on five, maybe even ten pounds in just a couple of weeks.

He slid his shades off his face and set them on the desk, his fiery eyes glinting in the dim light before he ran a hand over them tiredly. After a moment, he booted up his computer and started surfing, watching a youtube video here, reading a buzzfeed article there. You and Dave weren’t sure how long you’d been trapped in his closet when he leaned back and huffed out an annoyed breath. He undid his pants and you and Dave glanced at each other guiltily. You wouldn’t watch.

You couldn’t help it. Hearing his breath gradually change pace, his voice straining softly in his throat, drew your gaze as he to closed his eyes in heavy concentration. He swallowed, his neck arching back a little as he pumped his dick. Despite his valiant efforts, his gestures grew more and more impatient and his expression more and more pained; after a minute or so of this he sighed roughly and bit his lip, looking pensive.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his ragged breath, but not in the pleasured kind of way. He sounded aggravated. Defeated. Then he reached into the plastic bag and pulled out a box of mega-stuff Oreos. The bag was full of other snacks too. Chips, big bags of candy, a two-liter of soda...

_ Oh fuck, _ you thought, your head reeling with realization.

He opened the package and shoved a cookie into his mouth. While he chewed, he relaxed a little and hummed pleasantly, maybe even erotically. Most importantly, though, was the subtle note of guilt buried beneath the pleasure. Then he tugged up the hem of his shirt gingerly, like he couldn't believe he was about to do this. Your mouth felt dry, and even Dave couldn’t help looking now.

It was barely there, just a little padding of flab around his middle and insulating his otherwise angular hips. Still, compared to the toned abs you were familiar with, it was like day and night. You heard him sigh again, his brows furrowing as he heavily considered his next move. He popped another Oreo in his mouth and began to roll a pathetic little bundle of squishy flesh in his fingers. His hips  jolted a bit, his moan muffled by his full mouth as if his own touch had electrified him. Then, with his free hand, he went back to tending his weak erection. It didn't stay weak for long though. He alternated like that for a few minutes: eating an Oreo, fondling his starter belly, eating another Oreo. All while massaging himself insistently.

“Fuck,” he repeated after swallowing at least his dozenth cookie, the package’s stock quickly dwindling. This time the eroticism was undeniable. “At this rate,” he paused hesitantly, gnawing his lip before daring to continue, “I’m gonna get f-fat…” He stuttered out that last word as if he didn’t even want to say it, but the second he did he melted, the pace of his ministrations increasing desperately.

He came in seconds, his breath staggering as he gasped and tried to contain the vocalizations of his orgasm by biting down on his lip. As he started to relax after his pleasure-wracked state, still softly massaging the meager fat of his belly, he groaned. The sound seemed half sexual and half in disappointed.

“… Damn it,” he grunted, his voice flat with irritation as he cleaned up his mess.

He stayed at his computer for a little while longer, continuously munching on the package of Oreos until it was empty. At least half an hour must've passed before he finally got up to go to the restroom. As soon as you could no longer hear his footsteps you and Dave tumbled out of the closet and rushed back to the safety of his bedroom.

For a long minute, the two of you could only stared at each other, trying to process what you’d just witnessed. “Holy shit,” the two of you said in unison, suddenly grinning devilishly.

“That hypocrite,” you snickered, though you couldn’t ignore the heat in your face. Come to think of it, Dave looked flushed too. “Criticizing us when all along he-”

“Actually,” Dave cut in, “I think this is… new.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well… about a week ago, after Dirk started acting weird and wearing fuckin’ cardigan sweaters in the middle of June, he said he wanted to ask me something. Said it was just out of ‘morbid curiosity.’ I didn’t think much if it then, and when he finally did ask I kinda just thought he was making fun of me. Y'know, because that's apparently one of his favorite pastimes.”

“What did he ask?”

“Well, to sum it up, he asked about us. Specifically our… sex life. Like. What about this whole weight gain thing was so great and why I was into it.”

“What’d you say?” you asked eagerly, genuinely interested.

“I don’t remember! I panicked. I think I just told him that it was hard to explain and he… oh. Oh fuck. I told him not to knock it until he’s tried it.”

Well. That answered that.

“Must be genetic,” you blurted out after an awkward beat of silence; it hadn’t been intended as a joke, but Dave nearly choked on his own laughter.

Now that you two had solved your little missing pastry mystery, you agreed the best course of action was to wait and watch his progress. Confiscating already stolen snacks from his room was one thing, but if he found out that you two had inadvertently spied on him while he did…  _ that,  _ he’d be furious. So instead you kept your mouths shut… for the time being.

It was hard to tell at first, but he was definitely changing. His chiseled jaw was starting to soften, and there was no longer a sliver of space between his thighs, sitting  _ or  _ standing. Most noticeable, however, was the way his formerly flat ass seemed to increasingly fill out the seat of his pants. No amount of hoodies could hide that.

Then, one day when you and Dave had walked into the kitchen unannounced, you caught Dirk on the rare occasion that he had his guard down. He was leaned against the countertop, his weight resting on his elbow while he nibbled idly on a white chocolate and macadamia nut cookie from the cafe. His free hand, however, was busy stroking and prodding the underside of his gut as it hung over his waistband. Even in his hoodie you could see the outline of his pudgy middle. 

More importantly, his newly plush ass was in _prime_ _position_.  You looked at Dave pleadingly when you realized he had yet to notice you two watching. Opportunity was ringing, and that was one phone call you did _not_ want to miss. Seeming just as interested as you, he just gave a little nod as he offered an encouraging thumbs up. Hell. Yes. You creeped up behind Dirk, silent like a mischievous cat, and landed the palm of your hand hard against his rear with a stiff  _ thwap. _

He jumped, nearly choking on his mouthful and whirling around to look at you, eyes wide behind his shades. “Yo, hey, what the fuck?” he stuttered out after swallowing the last of his mouthful with a little cough.

“Careful there, Strider,” you crooned with a raised eyebrow, and his face flushed even before you said anything else. “… Or Dave won’t be the only fatass around here. Seems like you're already losing your edge.”

At first he seemed shocked silent, his face remaining stoic. The blooming red blush that spread across his face and down his neck betrayed him though, and you grinned at him snidely. Finally, he managed a ill-considered retort. “Hey now, don’t you start tryin' that gross, feederism devil magic on me, y’hear?”

“ _ Feederism, _ huh?” you pressed further, and he immediately seemed to realize his mistake.  _ Sounds like someone’s been doing a bit of research. _ “Where’d you learn that?”

“Oh, I'm glad you asked: I learned it from The Big Book of Fuck You,” he gritted out, his brows twitching just slightly downwards as he swallowed thickly. “Don’t get any smart ideas.”

“I think you’re the one with smart ideas.” You had him on the defensive, and by then Dave had joined you in the kitchen. He stood beside you like a teammate ready to be tagged in at any time. You had this in the bag though. “Admit it.”

“Admit _what_?”

“You know  exactly what.” Still, he was quiet, raising a daring eyebrow. “Dirk Strider... you’re. Getting.  _ Fat.” _

He seemed to stop breathing for a split second, his whole body giving a little, aroused twitch. You didn’t think it was possible for his face to go any pinker. “Oh yeah? Say that again and I might just sit on you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, doughboy.”

His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, palms slick with a thin layer of sweat. If you didn’t know any better you’d have thought that it wasn’t just his recent weight gain that was making his pants tight. “Fuck you,” he spat out.

“Pretty please?”

Flashing his teeth hotly in a mix of indignation and embarrassment, he pushed past the two of you and stormed off to his room. You almost yelled a comment about just what he might be going up there to do, but that might’ve been too on the nose, so you decided against it. He couldn't know what you'd seen. Still, curiosity got the better of you, and as you made your way in the same direction he’d gone, Dave followed.

You pressed your ear to the door and listened closely. Mostly silence, but then you heard it: that telltale little gasp that melted into a repressed grunt of pleasure. Biting your lip, you imagined him fondling his belly again, surely bigger than it had been when you’d accidentally witnessed this the first time. This time  it was no accident. You and Dave both knew it, and honestly? Neither of you really minded.

A couple of days later Dirk came home with a bag bearing the Old Navy logo. Sitting up on the couch, you smiled at him wryly. “What’cha got there?”

His only response was a flash of his finger as he fled up to his room. The next day, his characteristic skinny jeans had been replaced by a notably looser pair of boot cuts. Perhaps a little looser than necessary, and you couldn’t help but think he’d done that on purpose.

“I like the new digs,” Dave remarked, causing Dirk to scoff in annoyance.

“Laugh it up, assholes,” he snarked back, crossing his arms over his much more prominent middle section. “Bet you’re real satisfied.”

“What do you mean?” you questioned innocently.

He gestured up and down his body, lean, wiry muscle having given way to soft padding. “This. It’s your fault.”

“ _Our fault_?” you all but cackled at him. “We weren’t the ones stuffing your greedy face with sweets while no one was watching.”

He reddened, his teeth catching his lip in an obvious mix of animosity and arousal. “I’d threaten to squash you, but you’d probably get off on it, you fuckin’ pervert.”

“Guilty.”

He threw his hands up in the air in a final show of frustration before turning to go, but both you and Dave got up. “Hey, hey,” the red-eyed Strider soothed as the two of you reached Dirk and stood on either side of him. “It’s all in good fun. If you're gonna get into this, you’re gonna have to get used to some playful teasing.”

“Who the fuck said I  _ wanted _ to?” Dirk exclaimed, but his disgust was disingenuous. “This's just… holiday weight. It’ll pass.”

“Y’know that excuse is usually for the wintertime, right?” you objected lightly, feeling brave as you poked your finger into his soft, squishy side. He jolted away from you with the tiniest yelp, and you grinned. “Good attempt though. Care to try again?”

His mouth opened, then snapped shut when he seemed to realize he had no retort to that. He swallowed thickly, biting his lip and turning away from you. “Fine. You got me. Bein' f-f….  _ fat _ is kind of… weirdly grossly disgustingly hot. There. Happy now?”

“Yes, actually. Very.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, a mannerism you quickly recognized from knowing Dave’s so well. “Fan-fuckin’-tastic. Now we can proceed to never talk about this again ever.”

“Slow your roll,” you urged, blocking him before he could walk away. Honestly though? If he’d really been so insistent on getting away, he could’ve in a heartbeat. He had size in his side, after all “This is something better enjoyed with a partner.”

“Or partners,” Dave mumbled slyly.

Dirk seemed to consider this, like he wasn’t sure what you meant at first; then a flush hit his face full force. “You’re… you can’t be serious.” You raised your eyebrow, as if to say “you wanna bet?” and he just sighed raggedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “God,” he groaned, “what’ve I gotten myself into?”

It took a little more convincing, but he eventually agreed to have the both of you come up to his room. He didn’t turn on the lights, just shut the door behind him once you were all inside. “Alright. Do your thing, I guess. I’m a willin' slave to your kinky whims.”

“Wrong fetish, but good effort,” you chided softly, guiding him over to the bed and prompting him to sit. “The jacket, for starters,” you began, “it needs to go.”

He gnawed the inside of his lip, hesitant, but eventually he agreed and started to unzip the garment, strip it off, and toss it aside. Wow. He seriously had packed it on in just a couple weeks. The bulge of his stomach was undeniable now, his waist bunching into subtle folds at the sides. Unlike his jeans, however, he’d had yet to update the state of his shirts. The soft fabric was stretched somewhat taut across his stomach, and even the tiniest hint of breasts was now beginning to form.

“Now what?” he asked, already seeming a bit breathless. It was clear he'd noticed the lusting way you looked at the shadow where his belly button was hidden under the material of his t-shirt. 

“Good question,” you started thoughtfully. “Where’s your stash?”

“My what?”

“Your. Stash. Every gainer has one.”

“Oh so I’m a  _ gainer _ now?”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “Do you or do you not get off on getting fat.”

There was a beat of silence. He hated how right you were, scowling as he avoided your gaze. “… Point taken. Cardboard box, top shelf in the closet.”

Dave was taller, so he went to get it down. Meanwhile, you strategized. Should you feed him, or should you be the one to play with his new rolls and layers of chub? Maybe Dave could do the honors… he might enjoy being on the other end of things for a change. Yeah. That could work.

The two of you sat on either side of Dirk, Dave holding the box in his lap and beginning to sift through it. There were still abundant bags of cookies, chips, various assorted candies… damn, he’d really been doing his homework. And keeping himself well-stocked. “Pick your poison, sport,” you offered, and he just shrugged. 

“There’re some gummy worms in there.”

“Different, but I’m game.” Dave dug around in the box until he found the jumbo bag of gummy worms inside. When he started to hand it to you you shook your head. “How about you give it a whirl? We’re all learning something new here.”

At first he flushed, looking uncertain, but he trusted you. Besides, he’d always wondered what being in the more dominant role was like. He ripped open the bag and pulled out a gummy worm, holding it up to Dirk’s lips. You were about to prompt him, but apparently he already knew what to do.

He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out just the slightest bit, allowing Dave to place the candy there before taking it in and chewing slowly. His eyes were hooded a bit, and he mumbled through the mouthful dully: “Well?”

“Someone’s impatient,” you scolded gently, moving your hand to slide over the little pouch of his belly. That alone made him shiver, like the sensation was something he’d craved for years without ever even knowing it. “Impatient and  _ sensitive _ , apparently.”

“Just do what you’re gonna do,” he breathed out stiffly as he squirmed, a visible bulge forming between his legs now.

You clicked your tongue at him. “I am. Dirty talk is half the fun, sweetheart. For example: you’re such a shameless  _ glutton _ to have gotten so  _ fat _ so  _ quickly _ .” Every one of those emphasized words got their own little quiver out of him. His shuddering little sigh encouraged you further. Now you were gripping the lowest roll of his starter belly, giving it a tantalizing shake that sent subtle ripples through his whole middle. “You’ve got a bit of a belly, sure, but your ass has suffered the biggest hit,  _ definitely _ .”

“Fuck,” he whispered, shivering and watching, enamored by how his body jiggled under your touch. “O-okay, I admit it: you definitely know what you’re doin'.”

“Obviously.” You punctuated this statement by moving your hand from his belly to palm his erection through his pants. His breath hitched loudly, and Dave took his following moan as a chance to guide another few gummy worms into his mouth. Dirk chewed them eagerly, groaning through his full mouth before swallowing. With one hand, you kept massaging his dick, the other cupping his budding love handles. “Greedy little fatass, huh?”

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” he breathed, lifting his hips a little for more friction, the movement making his belly wobble against his lap. He watched the way it jiggled and swayed, seeming mesmerized and absolutely awestruck. “H-holy fuck…”

About halfway through the bag you noticed the slightly taut feeling of his stomach, quick to bloat with his sizably smaller capacity than someone like Dave. That would be fun to experiment with. Your fingers danced against the gurgling mound, your tongue darting over your lips. “You didn’t throw out those skinny jeans, did you?”

Now you knew he’d done his research, because that alone was enough to make him moan a bit as he shook his head. “Bottom drawer of the dresser.”

You snickered. “Not just greedy, lazy too,” you taunted, and he panted a little bit. You were happy to get up and find the ill-fitting garment though, and by the time you returned to the bedside he was already stripping off his shirt and boxers.

He was definitely filling out, and in a similar way to Dave. You hadn’t been joking when you said his ass had received the brunt of his rapid weight gain, but his thighs were a close second. And that cute, pathetic little excuse for a belly… still, he was right. At this rate, he was going to get truly fat, and fast.

You looked forward to it.

“Put these on,” you told him, and he was eager to start struggling his way into them. His thighs were where he hit the first snag, having to really pull and tug and heave just to get the waistband up over his hips. The button was another issue altogether.

“This is why I bought new ones,” he muttered softly, lustfully as he began tugging either side of the fastening together. The three of you seemed to breathe in unison as you watched, mesmerized at the way the flab of his belly squished together between his hands and the obstinate fabric. The result of finally managing to connect the button with the hole was an exaggerated muffin top that he poked and prodded experimentally.

“Jesus,” he groaned, exasperated. “I fuckin' hate how good this feels...”

“Oh, don’t hate it,” you hummed, patting his stomach rhythmically to make it bounce and wobble. His fingers tangled into the sheets underneath his thighs. “If it feels good, enjoy it.” This you said in earnest, no teasing or taunting or anything of the sort. He swallowed thickly, and much to your surprise he gave a willing nod.

While Dave kept hand-feeding Dirk candy after candy, his belly slowly but surely expanding, you stroked his cheeks affectionately. They’d really started to round out, and now that you were close to him, you noticed the subtlest hint of a double chin starting to form. You pinched the extra skin softly, then moved your hand to cup his modest breast.

“You’re doing so well,” you assured him, tweaking his nipple playfully through the fabric of his shirt and wiggling his breast in your palm. This  seemed to make him grow impatient again, his hard-on aching now. He went to unbutton his pants to reach it, the fastening now strained tightly against his swollen stomach; you swatted his hand daintily away and clicked your tongue at him again.

“Ah ah ah,” you told him with a little shake of your head; he whimpered pitifully, squirming to gain some meager friction. The audible creak of the overexerted button made him stop briefly, his dick throbbing and his cheeks heating up. He immediately seemed to get where this was going.

He finished off the last of the bag hungrily, his stomach swelling out at the same pace that his breathing started to get shallow and heavy. Dave seemed satisfied with himself, wearing a devious smile as he let the bag float weightlessly to the ground. Now he was fondling Dirk’s belly too, who gasped sharply at the added contact.

“So full,” he sighed, his eyes hooded as he looked at his own full, bloated, pudgy form. The tiniest shift of his weight was all it took for the fed-up button to give, snapping off and flinging itself across the room and letting his belly slosh forwards to hit his lap. His breath hitched in time with the punctuating sound, watching the button fly free with stunned-wide eyes and beet-red cheeks. “…  _ Sh-shit _ .”

“Hmn?” you lilted, nuzzling into his neck and stroking the underside of his taut tummy. “You like that, huh? And _I’m_ the pervert.”

“Fuck, you win,” he groaned, moving his hand to stroke himself now that his fly had torn itself open. This time you let him. “I’ve never been so hard in my life, jesus  _ fuck.” _

“There you go, sweetie,” you encouraged as he struggled to work his way to his erection underneath tight clothes and the minor obstacle of his swollen gut. As he started to work up a rhythm, it made his full stomach wobble stiffly. You moaned, which urged him to go faster. “Yeah, just like that. Enjoy yourself. Enjoy being a fucking  _ fatass _ .”

His back arched as he worked out a low, growling moan through his teeth while he came. His whole body jerked with every surge of pleasure, panting as if he’d just sprinted a mile. Sweat beaded his brow as he gasped for breath, falling backwards against the bed and rubbing his stomach in circles. Shoving his hands away, you and Dave took up the motion instead.

“Christ,” he cursed breathlessly, wiping his forehead and relishing the way the two of you curled closer to him. “I didn’t even know it could feel  _ that good _ .”

“Oh, honey,” you drawled tauntingly, you and Dave exchanging a lusting glance. “This is just the beginning.”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me here to die~.


End file.
